Demise Of The Beautiful
by oh crap
Summary: Three words is all he heard... murder, sacrifice, death.


-1Sam groaned as he awakened from an unconscious state. He opened his eyes slowly as the memories came flashing back to him.

_"Dad, no, what are you doing," Sam yelled, backing up slowly. "I'm sorry, Sammy," his father said as he advanced towards his youngest son, "it's the only thing that can be done." Sam turned frantically towards Dean. "Dean," he said, almost pleadingly, "please… help me." Dean looked at Sam and choked out, "I can't…" Sam shook his head, disbelievingly as John took quick action and shot Sam in the neck with a tranquilizer dart._

Sam sat up, or at least tried to, when he realized that he was tied to a table… no, _an alter made of stone_. "What the hell…" he thought, as he looked around, seeing that he was in an underground room, or something of the sort.

"Hey Sammy," he heard, causing him to turn his head quickly to meet eyes with Dean. "What do you want," Sam said roughly. Dean walked closer to Sam and sat down on the edge of the alter where Sam was tied. Dean reached out a hand to wipe away the blood from a cut above Sam's eyebrow. "I'm gonna miss you, Sammy," Dean said quietly. Sam glared at Dean as Dean stood up and walked down the alter and disappeared into the darkness.

Sam shook his head as he heard more footsteps from behind. He tried to adjust himself to see what, or who it was, but to no avail. "Don't struggle," he heard as he felt the cool blade of a knife on his neck, "or it'll hurt worse." "Dad," Sam questioned. When his answer was a cold laugh, Sam set a defiant look on his face. "Why the hell are you doing this," Sam asked. "Because," John said, "you killed my Mary. You killed your mother, you did it, Sam." John walked around to face Sam, still holding the knife to his throat. "You need to die, to make up for what you have done to this family. You need to repay us with your own blood." Sam's eyes widened as John raised the knife.

_"Take this boy, take him into your arms, and bring her back, give her to me. Let him be given in her place, spare her. Bear witness to this, bring him into the fires of Hell and rid us of his evil! TAKE HIM,_" John chanted, and brought the knife down into Sam's stomach. Sam gasped as John pulled it out, and then wiped off the blade. He placed the knife back into the wound. "_Let his blood stain the alter_," John instructed Dean, who was waiting nearby.

When Dean nodded, John walked out of the room. Dean walked slowly up where Sam lay, bleeding and dying. Dean gently stroked Sam's forehead, his face a mixture of blood, sweat, and tears. "Dean," Sam choked out, repeating the words he had said earlier, "please… help me…" Dean looked at Sam, as both of their eyes filed with tears, and then looked away. "I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said softly, "I can't."

They sat in silence, and after a while, Sam's breathing became labored. He moaned quietly as blood started to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Sam looked up at Dean one last time, and they locked eyes, and then Sam took a last shuddering breath. Dean nodded to himself and stood up, walking over to his father who sat in the next room. "It's done," he said quietly, his voice cracking.

"Dean, I'm sorry," John said, "I needed to do this. We're free, the thing that killed your mother is dead." "Don't say that, Dad," Dean argued, "he's not a thing, he's my brother." John shook his head. "He was not your brother, he never was your brother." Dean shook his head angrily at this statement . "Yes he was, he was my brother. He was my Sammy," Dean declared, as he dropped to his knees, holding his head in his hands. John sighed a bit as he walked over to Dean. "Dean, how many times do I have to tell you this? The little boy who we once loved is gone, he was never there."

When John said this, Dean began to sob quietly. "But he was," Dean said through sobs, "he was always there whether you loved him or not… he may not have been Sammy but I sure as hell loved whoever he was." John shook his head. "Dean, he would have killed you eventually." Dean looked up at his father. "Then I would have taken it. He'd die for me, I'd die for him." With that statement, Dean nodded to himself. "That's what I have to do," he said and got up.

"What are you going to do, Dean," John called after him. Dean looked back, judging his father's speed. When Dean figured that he could outrun his father, he began sprinting towards Sam's body. He grabbed the knife from Sam's chest and brought it up to himself. John saw Dean do so and he began running towards Dean, trying to tackle him and bring him down. Dean dodged, and John's head collided with the stone alter, causing him to fall unconscious. Dean sighed in relief as he brought the knife up to himself. "Sammy, I'm sorry… I'll see you later, alright?" Dean stood up, closed his eyes, and pierced the blade through his heart. He swayed on the spot for a moment, and then crumpled down, falling on top of his brother's body.

A/N: I don't like how this turned out… seems like it's too rushed. Still unsure if I'm going to continue with another chapter, but… well, Review and let me know how I did. This is actually my first Supernatural fan fiction, so every review helps.


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